


AWOL

by gloamingchild



Category: Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Mind Rape, it's not too bad but better safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloamingchild/pseuds/gloamingchild
Summary: An Alpha-ARC's mission is more than he bargained for.





	AWOL

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I wrote this in 2016 during my high school commutes. I was proud of it at the time but now I'm only uploading it to show how I've improved. Get ready for cringe and references only my roleplay partner can understand!
> 
> Also, I do not support the author of Republic Commandos.

An icy chill ran down Corin’s spine. He gasped for air. A lungful of moisture went with it and he coughed and coughed until he’d finally cleared his airway. Where in _haran_ …? His eyes opened to a bright light and he rubbed his face, then pushed himself upright. Bright and dark blobs. A few glints, a couple glows—he suspected a nearby vague shadow was mechanical and sub sentient in nature.

“A-31,” said a droid’s voice.

Nailed it. Corin rubbed his face and blinked hard. A medical droid stood at the foot of his cot. His vision wasn’t clear enough to make out the intricacies of its chassis, but he could sure as hell see the thing and it’s Republic emblem. “Reporting.” He cleared his throat. “Reporting from _where_ , exactly?”

“Republic cruiser _Halo_ , en route to Kulkura. Your vitals are normal. Do you feel any abnormalities? The symptoms of cryogenic hibernation are—”

“Spare me the list. Everything’s functional.” He glanced around the medical bay and found it empty. The far side of the room was a blur, but he spotted the folded bodysuit on a cart and stood to grab it.

The medbay door hissed open. A short figure in beige, silver-trimmed robes stepped inside and averted his gaze. “Captain Alpha-31. I trust you’re well?”

“That’s a funny way of wording it, but yeah, I’m ‘well’.” Corin pulled his feet through the bodysuit. He inspected the man’s face as he tugged the rest of the material over his upper body. Fine lines around red eyes, geometric tattoos across a yellow-green complexion. The lightsaber at his hip identified his station beyond any shadow of a doubt. He closed the neck seals around his throat. “How many days have passed since Geonosis?”

The Jedi looked up to meet Alpha-31’s eyes. “Four months.”

One hundred and forty!?

“Pardon me,” he continued, “I know your name, but I haven’t told you mine. Ushana Faey, Jedi General in command of the 813th battalion. Walk with me. I’ll brief you on our operation on the way to the armory.”

Corin clenched his jaw and strode after him into the hall. “The funny thing is, General, you _don’t_ know my name, and if you knew what I can do, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’d already be out in the field.” Faey’s steps faltered and his eyes widened, but Alpha-31 was on a roll. “What, did you forget I existed for almost half a year? Did you forget you had an _Advanced Recon Commando_ on ice while the war raged on? What the f—”

“Peace, Captain!” Faey raised a hand. “Anger does not become of a soldier.”

 _Wrong_.

“No one forgot about you.”

 _Wrong_.

Faey pressed his lips together. “We simply...didn’t have a place for a solo operative until now. Or, rather, we didn’t know where best to deploy you. Honestly, Captain, your conduct is unbecoming. I was told the Alpha-ARCs were the finest models available, but I’m having second thoughts. “ He stopped. “Another general stationed on Kulkura has command over a small platoon of Republic Comman—”

“RCs? You want to replace me with RCs!?” Corin took a deep breath, clasped his hands behind his back, and stared straight ahead down the hall. “Continue your briefing, sir. I assure you, Alpha-ARCs outperform RCs in _all_ regards.”

“Pride isn’t becoming, either.” Faey continued forward.

Corin’s jaw dropped. He’d just...he...how dare...what a _karking_ piece of bantha _osik_ . Hands balled into fists, he strode after Faey to the armory. Though fuming, insides _burning_ , he forced his focus to switch gears and scanned the racks and counters. Infantry meatcans criss-crossed the room, searching or sorting through the gear. Once he spotted his equipment laid out on a tabletop, he made a beeline for it, forcing them to clear the way. “What, did someone dump it out of crate like it was garbage? _Sir_?”

Faey folded his arms. “Essentially.”

 _Karking haran_ . Corin strapped on his jumbled armor piece by piece, holstering his weapons, attaching his pauldron and kama. His jaw clenched when he realized, “My jetpack’s missing.” _Haar’chak_ . The thing was nowhere to be found. “This is why mongrels shouldn’t touch my _kriffing_ stuff. It’s going to be a long war, general. How am I supposed to fight if—”

“Everything you own and everything you are is property of the Republic. It’s not your ‘ _kriffing_ stuff’. _Captain_.”

Corin’s fists clenched again, face flushing a violent red, and he stared Faey down. He didn’t own his armor: the GAR did. He didn’t own his kit: the GAR did. He didn’t own _himself_ : the GAR did. An army full of generals and commanders with no military experience and no training, an army that would fall like the souls on Geonosis. Meatcans slaughtering bugs, bugs slaughtering meatcans, the hot sun beating down on blood and gore and fluids. The bodies of Jedi knights falling atop seas of white armor and orange dust. Jedi like Ushana Faey, dead and dead and more dead, yet never matching the numbers of good genes gone to waste.

It was Faey who broke eye contact first. After regaining his composure, he said, “Before I brief you, I need to know I’m not sending a loose cannon into the field.”

Corin picked up his helmet. “Worse, sir.” He shoved it on and sealed it into place. “You’re sending a rancor.”

* * *

The doors of an LAAT/i hissed open. Wind howled past as the gunship sped along to a cleared hillside. It slowed on its descent, and Corin stepped out into the open air. He activated his jetpack--it’d taken _fifteen minutes_ to find the thing in the armory--and dropped down towards the grassy hillock.

As he fell, he saw mountains and clouds blurred on the horizon line. Distant mists of rainfall fell like transparent curtains.

Then, with a quick burst of his jetpack, he touched down on the hilltop.

Beneath the wrath of those storms laid a droid factory, schematics and a Mandalorian en route. As commanded by Ushana holier-than-thou Faey, Corin would destroy the factory, copy the schematics, and kill the Mandalorian.

Easy for an ARC.

And Faey had threatened to use _RCs_.

Shaking his head, Corin took off down the hill and passed through the treeline. He travelled beneath the thickest canopies; sometimes he caught glimpses of the overcast sky. Flurries of snow fell through the leaves. He caught himself, once, standing at the edge of a field and staring up at the light snowfall. _Har’chaak_ , what was he, some wide-eyed child?

Well, technically, thanks to his accelerated aging…

Corin trekked faster to make up for those lost seconds.

After half a standard hour, Corin took off his helmet and swivelled open his canteen. Hydration. Low temperatures or not, the human body contained a vast amount of water that needed to be replenished. Cold air bit his face. He breathed out, and a white cloud blew from his mouth.

He hesitated, then exhaled again. Another mist of condensation.

Warm air meeting cold air--it was no foreign concept.

Yet, it…

Corin blew out from his nostrils. Vapor drifted into the air like smoke. In spite of himself, a slight smile touched his face. He tucked his helmet under his arm, took a swig from the canteen, and watched the vapor as he navigated the forest. Every so often he exhaled harder than necessary. 

Thunder rumbled in the clouds. Snow above him, rain and thunder ahead. As far as weather patterns went, it was interest...ing...

No, that wasn’t thunder.

That was a ship’s engines.

The drone grew louder. Corin shoved his helmet on and pressed himself against a tree trunk. As the ship passed overhead, the engines increased to a roar and the leaves rustled around him, then the strong wind and the powerful false thunder faded and silenced.

An unknown had touched ground somewhere ahead.

Corin waited, but he heard nothing else. He crept over the foliage--whenever he could, he used roots as stepping stones over the crunchy leaf bed. Soon the trees thinned, and Corin laid down flat behind the bushes. He zoomed in with his HUD screen.

A small cargo freighter sat in the center of a clearing, gangway lowered. A Mandalorian stood halfway down, tapping at their gauntlet. They wore plain, unpainted Mandalorian armor--scratched, burned, dented. Little spikes dotted the helmet’s dome.

They didn’t match the description of his target, and any ally of that target would land at the factory rather than hours away. His eyes tracked their progress away to the next treeline. Once they disappeared, Corin risked a sprint straight across the grass and hid behind the ship’s landing gear.

Though not a priority, a mysterious third party endangered his operation. Corin followed their path to the forest edge and held his blaster pistols aloft. He dialed up his helmet’s audio receiver, switching on an infrared filter to search through the shadows.

Nothing. He inched forward, gaze scanning the area.

 _Crunch_.

Corin spun around and fired at a blur of silver. The Mandalorian raced off. No heat signature.

What!?

He sprinted through the undergrowth, vaulting over dead branches and thick patches of vegetation. The silver flash remained ahead of him, visible for a split seconds before vanishing again. They ran fast, but Corin sent plasma bolts after them; the bolts covered ground faster than either of them could.

Then the silent runner vanished for good in a dense copse. When Corin passed the clump of trees, he could find no trace of them.

“ _Manda kriffing har’chaak_ ,” he muttered, the curses trapped in his airtight helmet. He crept forward, scouring the forest ahead with his eyes. With the sun setting beyond the dense clouds and his infrared rendered useless, he struggled to see through the darkness. A few eye motions activated his night filter--

There!

His blasters fired before he even registered the target. The silver Mandalorian stood, guns outstretched--

And Corin’s bolts went _straight through them_ , punching holes in the wavering figure. It dissolved into a cloud of bright, glowing green smoke that dissipated in the air, leaving nothing behind.

Corin’s breath caught in his throat; when, finally, air would come, the rasps of his inhales and exhales echoed much too loud in his helmet. His heart pounded. His sweaty hands clenched his blasters. What in _haran_ . What in _haran_...holograms didn’t disperse. Didn’t have a near-tangible, smoke-like presence. This was no holo. Then what--

 _Flash_.

He flinched and a stun bolt whistled past his shoulder. He rolled behind the nearest tree and hit the roots hard, shoving himself into a kneeling position.

“I’m not with them!” yelled a distorted, high-pitched voice.

Corin leaned his back against the tree and adjusted his grip on his pistols. An enemy of an enemy wasn’t his friend.

He heard a footstep and leaned out, firing.

The mando took cover, though not without taking a hit to the shoulder bell. “I’m shutting down that factory! That’s what you’re here for, right? _Listen_ to me, _har’chaak_ , we’re on the same side!”

“Disarm and I’ll talk.” ‘Talk’ defied Corin’s nature, but _glowing green smoke_ defied nature twice as much.

“I’m good, thanks. We can talk at a distance.”

Corin scowled. He noticed his death grip on his blasters and eased a bit of the tension out of his muscles, particularly his trigger fingers. “How did you do the illusion?”

“I’m a dathomirian. Force magic, buddy chum. I could sense you following me, so I had to do _something_ to get you off my trail. I planned on stunning you and leaving you here, getting you outta my way, but it looks like we’re both in each other’s ways now.”

Dathomirians...people hailing from Dathomir--almost always witches, almost always human. And the ethnicity of his target. He stood up, keeping his back against the tree, and slowly looked around. The battered Mandalorian stood out in the open, blaster up instead of pointing his way. A cheap carbine model. “ _You’re_ a witch?”

“ _Cyar’ika_ , I can be anything you want me to be.”

“Whoa, _what_?”

The Mandalorian laughed. “ _N'eparavu takisit_.” Then her tone grew serious. “I’m sabotaging the factory. Our goals align--we can help each other.”

“Our goals align. Our allegiances don’t. How do I know you won’t shoot me?”

“You never know if someone’s going to shoot you.”

Comforting, though no amount of cutesy retorts would build rapport or even a facsimile of trust between them. He edged out into the open and aimed his blasters at her chest. “I need to know who you are and why you’re here.”

“I’m Biva A’kadii, _alor_ of Clan A’kadii. My mother’s a Dathomirian witch, but we’re children of Mandalore. I’m here on the behalf of the True Mandalorians, though I don’t see you as an enemy under the circumstances. Please refrain from shooting me.”

A’kadii. The same clan name as Corin’s target. Those three syllables alone drowned out the name of her anti-Republic affiliation.

“The factory’s using stolen schematics,” Biva added. “Tech we _don’t_ want circulating. I’m intercepting the drop off and destroying the assembly lines for good measure. What about you?”

A’kadii.

Biva _A’kadii_.

Corin lifted his blasters skyward, mimicking her. “The same. Look, this is against protocol. If you mess up my operation--”

“You’ll mess me up. Gotcha.” Biva turned away. “Don’t put me in your reports.”

Fair enough. The Republic would only know about outside help if he told them, and he wouldn’t. Using this A’kadii to find his target, a woman of the same family name, was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. Corin followed her, staying a short distance behind--close enough to see her every move, far enough to dodge in the event of such a hazard.

She glanced over her shoulder. “What do I call you?”

“A-31.”

“Oh, come on, you go by serial numbers? There’s no way I’m calling you that.” Biva stopped and faced him. “You’ve gotta have some kind of nickname.”

Corin hesitated.

“C’ _mon_.”

“...my name is is Corin.”

“Corin, huh?” She chuckled. “See,” she said, “That’s a _whole_ lot better than a _di’kutla_ _number_.”

* * *

The droid factory lights shined through the trees and the downpour. Floodlights swept its immediate vicinity. Corin crouched low in the underbrush and used his rifle scope for a closer view of the building. “No ships on the landing pads.” He’d linked up to Biva’s internal comlink, enabling them to speak as loud as they wished. “Intel says the drop off’s scheduled for 02:00.” Twenty minutes to go.

“I don’t understand why it’s a _physical_ drop off. That’s primitive.”

Corin’s brows furrowed. With all of the electronic possibilities, Biva’s comment exposed a glaring leap in logic. Why physical? Why not transmit the files? They couldn't be destroyed on the HoloNet--nothing could. As he could think of no reason for the circumstances, he said, “Paranoia breeds irrationality.”

“I suppose.”

Corin raised his scope to his eyes again. He’d shared his plans with Biva on the hike to the factory, though he’d told her the schematics weren’t his primary objective. “All yours,” he’d said, dodging the conflict of interest--he’d get the files off of her after they took out the factory, after he’d seen the extent of her power.

Then he’d know how to kill her.

He watched the floodlights sweep back and forth through the deluge. This, he assumed, would be personal business for the woman. She must know the courier, given they shared an unusual clan name--

“ _Har’chaak_!”

Corin jumped. “What? What!?”

“Just a, um, slight problem, hold on…” Biva lifted her hands and a green haze settled upon them, fading to nothing seconds later. “The courier’s entering the atmosphere ahead of schedule, aaand I think she knows I’m here now. I just cloaked us, but--”

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Corin sat up. “Knows you’re--what, is she a witch too?”

“Pretty much, _‘lek_ . She’s my _dar’ori’vod_ . I’m gonna _love_ kicking her _shebs_ and taking her stuff like she used to do to me when we were _ad’ikase_. But ah, point is, she’ll be on high alert.”

“And you didn’t think to cloak us before--”

“I did, actually, but I assumed I had more time, and--”

“Okay, _ne’johaa_ !” Corin snapped. And he’d thought using Biva to reach his goals would simplify matters! _Haran_ , was he in for a mess of an op. “Tell me exactly what to expect with no extra flourishes _right now_ , or I swear to the _manda_ I will blast you into the void.”

Biva sighed. “Take a deep breath.”

Corin aimed his blaster at her.

“ _Osik_ , would you calm the hell down? _Udesii_! Look, see, the True Mandalorians sent me so nobody with no magical experience is stuck going up against her.” Another sigh--sharper this time. “She’ll be on guard.”

Of course the courier would arrive early, and of course Biva would mess up before anything even happened. Corin, scowling, scanned the skies and strained his ears. It took some time for the starship engines to be audible. Next, the vessel came into view, and it set down on the factory’s landing pad. He hunkered down and focused in on the gangway, magnifying his sights, and soon he saw a new Mandalorian exit. This one wore dark brown armor over a dull red flight suit, jagged red claw mark designs painted onto her bucket’s dome.

Rhee A’kadii.

“Ohhhh- _sik_ . Why is he here? Why the _haran_ is he here?”

Corin’s hands clenched on his rifle. “Who.”

“Her husband. Her _di’kutla riduur_. _Osik_ , _jag_ , I can take my _dar’vod_ alone, but not when she’s got a _kriffing_ _dar’jetii_ with her! I _kriffing_ hate him. Thank the _manda_ I’ve got you.”

 _Dar’jetii_. Dark Jedi. Corin slowly sat upright. “Tell me you didn’t just say that.”’

“You didn’t just say that?”

A retort rose to Corin’s lips, but it died when he spotted another figure exiting the ship. He zoomed in again. This being wore silver armor with a beige robe over top, a utility belt holding it snug around his waist. Those plates paired with a cloak and a lightsaber struck a disturbing contrast. “He can’t sense us, either?”

“Nope.”

A prickling feeling crawled up Corin’s spine. All of these forces-- _the_ Force--went right over his head. Anything could happen in their world and he’d be none the wiser until it was too late. “How strong are they?”

“Rhee’s about my equal, but her magic is more offensive and mine is more passive. Get hit by her spirit ichor--the green stuff--and you’re gonna have a bad time.” Biva shifted forward to crouch at his side. “Javin there’s the stronger of the two, though she’d never admit it. Double-bladed lightsaber. Telekinetics.”

Everything Corin had ever learned about the Jedi flitted through his head. Lessons from Kamino about respect and obedience...and lessons from Geonosis. It’d taken one battle to unravel the so-called facts of his training. Jedi were _not_ as invulnerable as he’d been led to believe.

...but the corpses of clones and Jedi fell a hundred to one in his mind’s eye, clogging up the sands with plasma that wept from burns and and gore that dripped from gashes.

He may be elite, special…

But in truth…

Was he really that special if he could be frozen for months, forgotten by the army he’d been bred to serve?

“Corin…”

He flinched at a touch on his shoulder, damn near firing his rifle.

“Sorry.” Biva withdrew her hand. “It’s just...your hands are shaking.”

“No they’re not,” Corin snapped, glaring through his deece’s scope. The sights did tremble a bit. He muttered a string of swears and slid the weapon onto his back. Even one on one, the couple would be tough to beat. Two on one…

Two on one.

“Biva.” He turned to face the front of her helmet. Raindrops raced down the surface. “You can hide yourself with magic, but what if you reveal yourself at a location you aren’t actually at?”

“You mean creating a false signal…” He heard a smile in her voice. “And baiting them into splitting up?

“Exactly. A blip on their mental radar to send one of them running.”

Biva stood up. “It’s easier said than done, especially when I’m hiding _both_ of us...but I’ll try. It’s clever, _verd’ika_ and I like clever.” She gestured towards the factory. “They’re inside. Let’s go.” And Biva took off down the grassy slope.

“Slow down!” Corin jumped up. “What is _wrong_ with you? Running makes you visible!”

To her credit, she did slow down when he told her to. “It’s dark,” she protested, “And nobody’s watching--Rhee and Javin are the only sentients around. The floodlights are an illusion of security. Trust me, I know my illusions. That might explain the physical drop off, then...no one’s around to accept an electronic transfer and reprogram the factory lines.”

Corin clenched his teeth. “You don’t know for sure no one’s watching. And don’t call me _verd_ \--ohhh my _manda_.” He groaned as Biva took off again, and he ran after her. Through the floodlights, past the landing pad, straight to the side door. There he crouched by the keypad and plugged in a device; it sliced the passcode in ten seconds.

The door slid open. His HUD recorded a jump in temperature as the air in his environment warmed up. “Hot,” he muttered, heading down the hallway.

“Me?” Biva chuckled. “ _Vor’e_. I think so, too.”

“You wh… _no_ ! Why can’t you _shut up_ for once in your _kriffing_ life?” Corin checked the factory’s floor plans. “This hall leads to the main floor. On the opposite side of the building, there’s a ramp to the computer room that controls the systems. Rhee and Javin have to go there to download the schematics.” He minimized the map icon. “First, we’ll rig the place. Then you’ll throw your signal--one of them should come running. We’ll slot them before the other shows. If one doesn’t come to rescue their spouse, we’ll beat them to the computer room.”

Biva stopped before door at the hallway’s end. “Try not to kill Rhee. Don’t take any risks, but...just...if she’s down, then she’s down, okay?”

“How about this: if she’s laying on the ground incapacitated, I won’t put a plasma bolt through her brain.” Hopefully Force magic didn’t detect lies.

“Good enough.” She hit the door console.

Thunderous clangs rang loud and clear through shimmering air. Corin removed a det from his belt and held it out to Biva. “Use the Force to attach these high up on the assembly line machinery.” The conveyer belts crisscrossed the air above, mirroring aisles that laid beneath them on ground level. Parts of battle droids travelled at neat, orderly intervals down each belt. He saw no trace of the hostile couple, so he took another det and stuck it to a generator himself. Biva soon rejoined him.

“I feel them moving through the center,” she warned. “I’m going to try the signal throw now.”

“If you can’t do it, just reveal yourself and keep me hidden. I can surprise the one who attacks you.”

“Good point. No sweat, then.”

Biva stood motionless and silent, and Corin counted off the seconds until she uttered something in a different tongue. “What?”

“I had to go with plan besh. I sense Rhee backtracking now.”

Fine. Take out the witch, then chase down the _dar’jetii_. Corin backed up to a conveyor belt and knelt beside the moving lane, sliding his dual pistols from their holsters. Their oft-comforting weight failed to provide any consolation--would the plasma actually do anything against Rhee? He’d just have to hope.

… _and Faey had threatened to send RCs._

Again, Corin shook his head, and he aimed both pistols forward. The clangs of the machinery hid any audio clues; he waited for a visual sign instead. He spotted a shadow around the corner of a machine and his heart skipped a beat. Any second now...

“Biva,” called an abrasive voice, “The eternal pain in my--”

Corin fired at the first glimpse of Rhee; the brown Mandalorian jerked back and ducked for cover. “Who’s your damn friend, _manda har’chaak_ !? A _kriffing_ clone trooper?”

“She talks too much,” Biva grumbled.

“It must run in the family.” Corin held his aim steady towards Rhee’s cover. She ducked out and narrowly avoided a faceful of plasma.

He noticed her shadow--it fell in his line of sight, and he could watch her movements. Once she leaned out again, he fired, but the bolts missed and she unloaded her carbine his way. He hunkered down.

In her peripheral, he spotted Biva jumping on top of a conveyor and vanishing on the other side...Rhee’s side.

Biva could use a timely reaction. Corin stood, exposing his entire body. Rhee aimed and fired again, but a green flash sent her flying, and she hit the ground with a shout. Corin blasted her prone form. After two hits she rolled aside and held up a hand--the next plasma bolt headed her way exploded in a shower of green.

The shockwave sent Corin staggering. What in _haran_!?

Rhee jumped up to grab the edge of an assembly line. She hauled herself up just before ichor exploded against the metal and crouched behind a half-built battle droid.

Corin ran forward and jetpacked up to a higher belt. There--an angle. He shot, but the plasma exploded mid air again. The firework show sizzled wherever it struck--thank the _manda_ he wasn’t in that splash zone. He saw another green flash and lunged forward, letting it streak past.

Corin dropped down behind a droid chassis. At this point he could hardly tell if the magic hurtling this way and that originated from a hostile or an ally. That, and, “She’s intercepting all of my shots.”

“ _Overwhelm her; I’ll get the drop on her_.”

Barrage it was. Corin switched out his depleted power pack for a fresh one and jumped off the conveyor. He soared close to Rhee’s position and fired a dual stream of bolts her way. She waved a hand and a droid body hurtled towards him; he cut his jets and dropped out of its collision course, all the while sending blasterfire in her direction.

A red bar blinked in his HUD. Even pistols reached their limits. He vented heat from the dual weapons and alternated between them, flying after Rhee as she hopped between belts. She turned his way, hand raised, but he smashed feet first into her chestplate before a spell could go off.

They fell, rolling precariously to the conveyor’s edge. Rhee punched a dent in his chestplate, the crushgaunt blow akin to a piledriver. Corin, winded, pushed away and jumped to his feet to find Rhee up again; he dodged a hook and threw a cross. Back and forth they danced, Rhee’s heavy gauntlets flaring with ichor. He kept his flurry of punches and blocks close, giving no yield on their limited footing, keeping Rhee’s focus entirely on him...and not the low-hanging assembly machine further down the line.

Then Rhee’s glowing fist smashed into his shoulder. His arm wrenched out of the socket and he staggered, jaw clenched against the cry that rose to his throat. The bodysuit sizzled. His shoulder _screamed_.

Rhee advanced, hand sliding her blaster from it’s holster. Through a veil of reflexive tears, Corin watched the overhang loom closer--

 _Clunk_. The low ledge of the machine struck the back of her helm. Corin shoved her off the side and dropped to his knees. The machinery passed overhead. He stood again, clutching his arm, and looked down; he saw Biva approaching Rhee, who laid splayed on the floor far beneath him.

He stepped off the conveyor, slowing his descent with his jetpack. He hit the ground harder than he would’ve liked and grunted as the shock jarred his bad shoulder.

“Careful,” Biva warned, blaster trained on Rhee.

Careful went without saying. That ichor hurt like a bitch. Corin aimed one pistol with his good hand, though he wasn’t sure how much good it’d do him at that point.

Rhee uttered something.

Corin’s grip tightened. “What’s she saying?”

“Nothing nice, but not an incantation, either. I think she broke something in the fall--I can sense her pain.”

That explained why Rhee laid still instead of trying to murder them. Corin edged closer until Biva held out her arm in front of him. He stopped where he was and let her advance in his stead.

Biva extended her hand and green smoke curled away from Rhee’s body, tracing through the air towards Biva’s fingers. Rhee lurched sideways to grab at her _dar’vod_ ’s legs, but Biva stepped clear and kept her arm out.

The ichor traveled in streams, faster as the seconds passed. “ _Ni kriffing…kyr’amur…_ ” Rhee’s struggles, at first violent convulsions, faded to twitches.

“What in _haran_ are you doing?” Corin found his eyes locked onto the display, pain in his shoulder almost forgotten.

“Draining her power.”

Corin’s spine crawled. Rhee made one last attempt at resistance, then she slumped facedown on the factory floor.

“There.” Biva lowered her hand. “She’s fighting no one fast.”

Going nowhere fast, but…that didn’t align with Corin’s orders. Rhee A’kadii needed to die regardless of what he’d promised Biva. Could he oppose someone who could sucked the energy out of a sentient without physical contact? He stepped closer, eyeing his temporary ally, then trained his blaster on Rhee.

He had no choice.

“Don’t try and stop me,” he warned. Surely she would side with him--the woman on the ground wasn’t her sister any longer.Dar’ _vod_. “Don’t let your sentimentality get in the way.”

Biva’s hand curled around the barrel of Corin’s blaster.

She did nothing else, kept silent, remained still. Corin could pull the trigger regardless--and, at his close range, deal serious damage. He glanced at Biva’s battered helmet, then his eyes went down to her grip on his blaster pistol.

Sentimentality...or basic humanity?

Corin stayed his hand.

“Alright, _verd’ika_ .” Biva released the blaster and grasped his shoulder. “Let’s pop this back into place and catch us a _dar’jetii_.”

* * *

Corin raced down the aisles at Biva’s side. A warm sensation clouded the pain of his bruised chest and swollen shoulder--Force magic worked better than any stim. Unfortunately for them, though, the entire factory felt warm...too warm. While Corin’s helmet cooled and circulated air, he doubted Biva’s could. Her breathing grew labored as they ran, the heat no doubt taxing her lungs.

It was possible he’d have an upper edge against Javin. Corin would breathe easy while the dark jedi, lacking any helmet, would struggle in such stifling conditions.

Or would he struggle?

Force adepts were said to be mystics of vast power, and even though Geonosis proved they were far from invincible, Corin knew the kill ratios between Jedi and clones. One to a hundred, perhaps even more.

...but he was an ARC. They numbered one hundred--he could win, he would win, he _had_ to win.

Or...

Maybe the conditioning wasn’t working as well as he’d thought. Corin’s chest grew tight and his heart beat faster than it should even while he ran. _Nayc_...that fault went to his fears, not the heat. Didn’t the title of Dark Jedi constitute some higher power, greater than that of a normal Jedi?

Corin clenched his jaw and picked up the pace.

Ahead, high above, he spotted a rectangular one-way window adjacent to a door. The door marked the top of the ramp--once they got closer, they’d see the entire thing. They passed the assembly lines to find the ramp against the factory’s back wall...and on that ramp stood Javin.

The _dar’jetii_ glanced their way and pressed the door console. The door slid open.

 _Haran nayc_. Corin blasted into the air and soared towards the open doorway. Javin slipped inside, but right before it shut, Corin landed inside the room. He spun his blaster pistols from their holsters and fired, motions fluid but grip strong against the recoil. Over the sound of blaster pistols, he heard the door’s locking mechanisms engage.

 _Osik_. He was alone.

Javin glanced down at his plasma-singed robe, then ducked to the side as Corin fired more rounds. He ignited a lightsaber; twin blades of yellow lit on either end, and a spin deflected Corin’s bolts right back at him.

One struck Corin’s bad shoulder as he moved for cover. He cried out and staggered, and in that moment his feet lost contact with the ground and his body went crashing backwards as if hit by a speeder. He slammed into a wall and fell to the floor. A fresh wave of reflexive tears clouded his vision and he clutched his shoulder. Come on come on come _kriffing_ on!

Corin shoved himself forward into a roll. The drone of a lightsaber passed overhead. He jumped upright and the opposite blade slashed his leg, leaving a smoldering line across his thigh. _Osik_! At least adrenaline numbed it. He kept in motion, quick steps taking him out of range of the next attack.

Another Force push--Corin slammed against a line of computers. He gritted his teeth and ducked around the row, tossing a flashbang behind him as he went. After the bright light, he whirled around and fired dual barrages of plasma.

Javin, stumbling, caught some of the plasma. Despite his armor, the way his face screwed up said he was hit for sure.

Good. _Dar’jetii_ bastard.

Then the man lifted his arms. Not a good sign. Corin dove for cover right as a computer terminal was ripped from it’s place and flew over his head. As he looked up from his hiding spot, he noticed that Javin stood between him and the transparisteel window.

How did you fight the _kriffing_ Force?

With more _manda kriffing_ damned Force.

Corin fired at the window, cracking it, then lunged forward and activated his jetpack. He collided with Javin and body slammed him, _full force_ , through the transparisteel. The _dar’jetii_ went flying out of the room and Corin hit the ground hard, the back of his helmet smacking against the floor.

  
  


* * *

“ _Verd’ika_ ? Hey...hey, _verd’ika_ , wakey wakey…”

A dull ache pulsed in Corin’s skull. The deep voice resembled Biva’s higher pitch...was it her? He grimaced and opened his eyes to find off-white eyes staring down at his--they didn’t quite align with his gaze, offset by a small fraction.

Yes, this _was_ Biva. The tiny horns across her bald, pale head matched up with the spikes on her helmet. “What happened?”

“You turned Javin into a pincushion. Fragments of transparisteel everywhere. I had _nooo_ problem taking the schematics off of him. _Kandosii_ work.” Biva winked. “I found you semi-conscious, and I worried you had brain damage or something, so I used a spell to keep you unconscious and carried you out.”

A concussion…? _Osik_ . Corin took a deep breath; the scent of bacta filled his lungs, though the lack of overwhelming antiseptics and the soft surface beneath his back cut a sharp contrast to a Republic medical bay. In a flash of panic, he twisted his wrists, but he found them unrestrained. Good. He wasn’t a True Mandalorian captive. “Where am I? _How_ am I?”

“On my ship...which is still on Kulkura. _Reliability_ , the ship, she looks like a crappy freighter, but she’s got this neat remote control feature…” Biva waved a hand as she trailed off and continued on. “Basically, I flew her to the landing pad and got us to a safe distance before triggering the dets.”

“The factory’s destroyed?”

“Yeah. You missed it. Sorry ‘bout that, _verd’ika_.”

Corin propped himself up with his elbows and glanced around. A cramped room, a bed, a bolted-down footlocker. His kit laid on the floor. A blanket laid over him, and he touched the soft, wooly material.

“I keep my ship cold. I thought it’d turn you into an icicle with only that bodysuit.”

Vague memories of his creation drifted at the edge of Corin’s mind--floating in a cold tank, just floating, floating… “It protects me from the elements,” he informed, and he pushed the blanket aside. Bandages covered his thigh, matching ones on his shoulder. It lacked the touch of professionalism, tied on by a more...personal hand. He stared at it for a long moment. “ _Vor’e_.”

“ _Kih’parjaii_.”

Corin shifted his body sideways and touched the ground with his feet. The bad leg protested, but when he put a bit more weight on it, it felt like it’d hold up.

“Leaving already…?”

He glanced up at Biva. For the first time, he noticed her lack of armor--instead, she wore civvies. Her muscle definition stood out beneath her tight shirt. Thin black characters covered her arms, a stark dissimilarity against the pure white of her skin. He didn’t recognize the script. He assumed it was Dathomirian.

“Not sure if you’re staring at my tattoos or my breasts. I mean, I can take my shirt off if you want.”

“What!?” Corin’s gaze snapped to her face.

Biva grinned. “I didn’t know if you’ve ever seen a woman before or not. You say _‘what_ !?’ a whole lot, _burc’ya_.”

“I…” He flushed. “I wasn’t looking at--”

“You’re staring at a blind being. That’s so ableist. You think I can’t see you? Oh, wait. I can’t. Well. Um. This is awk--”

“ _Ne’johaa_ already!”

“Hey, hey.” Biva lifted her hands. “ _Udesii_ , Corin. I know, I play too much, but it’s all in good fun.” She folded her arms. “Anyway, the lightsaber didn’t do too much damage. It’ll heal, especially with bacta.”

Corin stood up. A jolt shot through him, but it wasn't pain--it was the sudden realization that he’d failed to report in his mission. “How long was I unconscious?”

“Like...an hour?”

Thank the _kriffing manda_. Only one hour. Corin could call for an evac and easily find an excuse for the delay. He was missing one thing, though--the schematics. “Did you get what you needed?”

“The schematics?” Biva nodded. “Safe and sound.” She patted one of the ammo pouches on her belt. “The True Mandalorians’ll be happy this never downloaded. Rhee stole them from us. Now...you stole them back.” She smiled. “ _Vor’entye_ , Corin.”

 _Osik_. He hadn’t stolen them back--not yet, not for the Republic. How…?

“Are you sure you have to leave right now?”

...maybe not. He needed those schematics, and if she’d secured the memory stick in an ammo pouch, then, somehow, he needed to get them out. “On second thought, I’ll sit down for a few minutes.” He sat on the edge of the bed.

“That whole factory mess must be a lot to take in.” Biva sat beside him. “I can, y’know...answer any questions before you go. I’m not _blind_ to how weird myself and my, ah, relatives, are.”

Well, hell, if the galaxy intended to throw _osik_ like this at him, Corin ought to be asking questions. That is, until he thought up a way to get that _kriffing_ memory stick. “How does your magic work?”

“Depends on who you ask.” Biva pulled her legs up to sit criss-cross. “After the Ruusan Reformation, my Iridonian ancestors split between Mandalore and Dathomir. Some became witches, others, mando’ad. It all blurred together.” She glanced at him, though her eyes still didn’t line up straight. “Some would say spirit ichor is drawn from the Winged Goddess, and the magics of hunting and blood are of the Fanged God. Though it’s all kinda cool, I’m not religious. I know everything's just a different expression of the Force, no matter what you call it.”

“Who taught you magic?”

“My mother was of a Dathomirian cult. Mandalore called to her, she says…” Biva smiled. “She’s more of a generically spiritual person rather than a follower of anything specific. Sacred energy, nature, the _manda_...lemme tell you, buddy, it’s a big galaxy. You’ll meet lots of interesting people.” 

Big galaxy, interesting people...no kidding. “You move so surely, yet you’re blind,” Corin noted. “Do you see with the Force?”

Biva nodded. “Quite well. It’s like having a holo map of your surroundings in your head, but you feel the dimensions rather than actually seeing them. The heat of a plasma bolt, the whisper of air around a hallway corner…” Another smile touched her face. “So, the question the entire galaxy’s asking: where are _you_ from?”

“I’m from…” Corin hesitated. After that mess of information, what did he have to share about himself? Where was he ‘from’, really? He glanced down at her belt. So close, yet so far…

“C’mon,” Biva pressed.

Corin sighed. “A cloning facility in a remote, unknown system.”

Biva’s brows shot up. “ _Osik_ , it’s true? You’re _clones_?”

“ _Elek_.”

“ _Ori’suumyc._ ” Biva scowled and shook her head. “ _Kriffing_ _ori’suumyc_.”

Beyond the pale...was it? Corin frowned down at the floor. It...was a waste of life, he supposed, a waste of life that had no say in their existence. He certainly was pissed he had to serve under that _shebs_ of a Jedi...

“So, what, they just...grew you for twenty-something years--”

“Ten.”

Biva didn’t respond for a long while. Then, “....you’re ten.”

“Not exactly.” Corin shook his head. “We age twice as fast. I’m biologically twenty.”

“Wait, then if I aged like you, I would be...sixty two.” Biva’s eyes widened. “That’s not...that’s…”

“I know. But I expect most of us to die before then, so the morality of accelerated aging, right or wrong, won’t matter.” Corin wanted to get up and flee the conversation that felt almost treasonous, but he couldn’t leave yet. His fists clenched. _Har’chaak_ , all he needed were those _kriffing_ files!

“Corin, _ibac ori’kriffed_. Why are you fighting--”

“Because we don’t have a _choice_!” Corin snapped. “Fighting’s the only thing I know how to do.” He jumped up and, grimacing at his leg’s protests, headed straight for his armor. He put it on, piece by piece, eyes glued to the blasters set beside them. He reached for his pistols--

“I own a _vheh’yaim_ about fifty kilometers north of Keldabe.” Biva spoke quietly, tone subdued. “It’s beautiful there, no matter the season, and…”

Corin waited for her to finish the sentence, but she remained silent. What…? Why tell him this? What was she suggesting, exactly? He holstered the pistols and held his helmet in their stead. “ _Elek…_?”

“Corin…” Biva hesitated and averted her gaze. She gave a shaky laugh. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was going to say. _Ret’urcye mhi, verd’ika_.”

Obviously, she did know. Corin knew. The implications made him shift his weight and stance and squirm in his armor until finally he replied, “ _Ret’urcye mhi_.” He stepped into the hall. She followed him out. He could draw a blaster, turn around, and--

Biva wrapped her arms around him.

 _Osik_! She’d read his mind or she’d sensed something or--

No. No, this was no attack.

This was a hug.

Corin took a deep breath to still his racing heart, and he moved his free arm in some attempt to reciprocate. Maybe he could reach into her belt and get the memory stick. His fingertips touched the fastener to the ammo pouch. Centimeters away.

She kissed his cheek.

Corin froze. Was that gesture typical of her culture?

...this was his chance.

He leaned in, pausing just before her face. For a moment he thought her blind eyes met his, but they were off by a narrow margin--still, that sightless gaze was enough to send a shiver down his spine. How much did she see? Could she look into his mind, riffle through his thoughts, realize his intentions? 

Biva’s face inched closer.

He kissed her. Or, at least, he _tried_ to--their lips met in a weird collision and he didn’t know what to do with his mouth. She lifted her hands to grip the sides of his face, and he took the opportunity to open the ammo pouch. But even after he slipped the memory stick out, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

...until, finally, she did.

“Hell of a goodbye, _verd’ika_ ,” Biva murmured.

“I-I-”

“ _Slana'pir_.”

Corin did a double take at the rude remark. Biva wore a stormy expression on her face. Did she know…? Then why not say anything? He forced his feet to move and limped down the gangway, pushing his helmet onto his head. Time to leave, and _fast_. Because something inside of him wanted to run back onboard her ship and...and then what? He didn’t know. His cheek and his mouth tingled--for one irrational second, he feared it was the effect of Force magic.

The operation had gone wrong in so many ways...

He lifted his hand and looked down at the memory stick in his palm. True, but in the end, he’d made it right.

...right?

* * *

Corin stepped out of the gunship into _Halo_ ’s bright, noisy hangar. Disguising his limp was easy enough; he just ignored the dull pain. He cut a straight path to the exit, no side steps, no detours--Republic personnel knew better than to hinder an Alpha. He’d almost made it to the exit when a clone commander, striped red to indicate rank, intercepted him. “Captain A-31, report to debriefing in room--”

“I know where to go... _sir_.”

The commander’s posture stiffened somewhat, but he didn’t rise to the challenge of Corin’s hostile tone.

Corin, leaving the man behind, tried to summon up his distaste of the lesser clone models--meatcans, cannon fodder--but...he couldn’t coax the usual feelings into existence. Biva was right about cloning-- _ori’suumyc_.

Biva…damn it. His mind kept returning to her.

And worst of all, Corin had to deal with Faey. He’d gone through enough in one very long day without a second dose of that _shabuir jetii_. He strode down the halls, grimacing as he stepped a little too hard on his bad leg, and entered the debriefing room. Ushana stood on the opposite side of a table, back turned to him.

“So,” said the Jedi, “You’ve returned.”

“Obviously.” Corin didn’t bother with a salute--the Jedi didn’t deserve it anyway. He was no military leader. He was a _di’kut_. “I have your data.” He set the memory stick down on the table. The object’s tiny size belied its significance, what it’d taken to get it. What files could possibly be on it that witches, a Dark Jedi, True Mandalorians, and the Republic all fought over them? He doubted he’d ever find out. He stared at that device for a long time before Faey bothered to speak again.

“What of the factory?”

“What of it?” Corin retorted. “It’s a melted metal skeleton.”

“And the target?”

“I took her down.”

Faey turned around. “You took her down...as in, you killed her?”

“Yes.” It would be problematic if Rhee showed up again--and she probably would--so he added, “Explosions do tend to kill sentients.” But sometimes, they didn’t, which gave Corin a convenient excuse in the future.

The Jedi pushed his hood back. “Tend to.”

... _osik_ . Maybe Corin shouldn’t have bothered with tricky wording--it was far from his strongest suit. Action mattered, not _words_ . “The factory went out in a ball of flame,” he snapped. “Goodbye, target. She’s _kriffing_ dead, _jetii_ . I completed my objectives--what more do you want from me?” For a moment he almost said _dar’jetii_. Ushana Faey and Javin Felswoop blended together in his head as one. What was the difference? Was there any? No. There wasn’t.

“What aren’t you telling me, _clone_?”

“You asked. I answered. It’s called a debriefing. Rhee A’kadii went down with the factory--what else am I supposed to tell you?”

“Is that your final answer?”

“Yes!”

A cold smile touched Faey’s face. “Then we’ll do this the hard way.”

Corin jerked back at a stab in his skull. Suddenly he didn’t feel alone within the confines of his cranium--something else lingered there. His eyes widened and he backed away until, a few steps later, he hit the wall. “Stop. _Stop it_.”

 _What aren’t you telling me, A-31_?

“A-aah…” Corin flinched and clutched his head. He dug his fingers into his temples. A fresh wave of pain almost brought him to his knees, but he wouldn’t _kriffing_ fall. Not in front of the Jedi. _Draar_ . _Nu draar_.

 _Your engineering makes you resilient, but you lack any Force sensitivity._ Each word drilled its way into Corin’s conscious. He cringed at the syllables and pressed himself against the wall, but Faey didn’t let up. _You deserve this. Once I have my answer, I’ll have you frozen again...and something will, unfortunately, go wrong with the equipment._

“I’ll...I’ll kill you…”

_No. That’s not how this works._

_SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP--_

_On the contrary…_

Images of the Kulkaran forest flashed through Corin’s head in vivid detail. He could see glimpses of Biva’s illusion leading him through the trees. He could see the factory lurking in the nighttime landscape. And he could feel _pain_. He resisted, tried to shut the invasion down, but it made it so much worse. He suppressed a scream. Had to try something had to do something...he saw Javin and Rhee and then he was leaning closer to Biva--

 _Stop stop…_ Needed a mantra, needed something… _Solus t’ad ehn cuir solus t’ad ehn cuir_ _solus t’ad ehn cuir..._

Corin drowned out Faey’s influence with the pattern of numbers. He repeated them over and over, _yelled_ them in his mind. In a moment of clarity he opened his eyes to see Faey in front of him, eyes shut, head bowed. A new wave almost sent Corin crashing down, but he locked up each muscle. Another image of Biva. Leaning closer.

Biva.

He had to break free. He had to find her again.

Corin smashed his elbow into Faey’s jaw. Faey cried out and went reeling; Corin grabbed his head and twisted it with a _snap_.

And it was Ushana Faey whose body fell.

Corin stared down at the Jedi for a long time, but Faey didn’t get up. He checked for a pulse and found none. This marked the first time he’d taken a life outside of a battlefield, but he felt only relief. Such a thing didn’t deserve to breathe.

Kaminoans created soldiers. The Jedi Order created monsters.

He rolled his shoulders. His head still smarted; he doubted the residual pain would go away anytime soon. But he’d stopped that pain.

It couldn’t happen again.

“ _Osik_ ,” Corin muttered, glancing at the body and the door. He dragged the corpse behind the table and grabbed the memory stick on his way out of the room. He’d have a window of time before anyone discovered the fate of _Halo_ ’s general, but once they found his body, they’d know the culprit at once.

He headed for the hangar. It time to take his leave...forever.

* * *

Corin clenched the steering yoke of his stolen ship. He tried to relax his hands--he was headed in a single direction, after all, there was no need to turn--but he couldn’t keep them loose for long. He’d ditched a Republic gunship planetside and stolen a separatist vessel, then flown to the next planet, stolen a different ship, and taken that ship to Mandalore...all the while leaving a trail that could be tracked regardless of how confusing the shell game.

He’d hoped he would shake off the Republic by leaving Kulkura in a seppie fighter, but...only time would tell.

_“I own a vheh’yaim about fifty kilometers north of Keldabe. It’s beautiful there, no matter the season, and…”_

He remembered those words exactly.

But would Biva even be there? What was north--straight on, north east, north west? North north east? North north west? Could he make it when his tank was almost empty?

Fifty kilometers…

He might make it.

Corin glanced down at the speeder lane he’d followed, barely visible as he kept a high altitude--the long metal road stayed its course to the north, winding through hills. With the sun setting, he’d soon be hard-pressed to follow it.

Time against him. Fuel against him.

Soon he was forced to descend in altitude. At that point, it didn’t matter--it was too dark for anyone to get an ID on the ship if they happened to see it. Forty kilometers. Forty one. Forty two.

And then, right before fifty, Corin lost the path…

...and spotted a dome on a hill.

* * *

Corin sat down and hugged his knees to his chest. Either this was Biva’s property or someone’s else’s property or...he opted to stop worrying, because he couldn’t change anything at that point. Eventually the bitter wind cut through his bodysuit, leaving him with no protection against the harsh winter clime. His shivers grew violent before they disappeared entirely.

He could retreat to the ship, but he’d rather die from hypothermia than from a firing squad. He’d rather die before his aging factor claimed him.

Corin opened his eyes.

He’d heard something out there in the pitch black, howling night. A crunch in the snow. Then two, three, four, getting closer.

“Corin!? What the _haran_!?”

It was her voice. Was he hallucinating? Was the faint silhouette he saw in the snowstorm a construct of a weakened mind?

Then Biva--it had to be her--grabbed his arm and wrenched him along through the snow. Frost cracked on his bodysuit. Corin grimaced as his stiff limbs dragged across banks of ice, and they protested more when she crouched down and lifted him off the ground.

“The _haran_ are you doing here?” she demanded.

But Corin couldn’t quite speak. He laid limp in her arms instead, just struggling to breathe.

Biva carried him indoors, and a door shut behind them. The freezing cold gave way to warmth and the scent of wood. She whisked down a hall and into a large room, setting him down on a sofa.

He pushed himself upright. “ _V_ \- _vor_ …”

She scowled. “Here to spy on me? Maybe to steal something else? _Nu’cuy di’kutla_ , Corin. I knew what you were doing. I just didn’t care. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you then and you’re lucky I don’t kill you now.”

“Y-you didn’t ca-care?” Now Corin’s body decided to shiver again, and it _hurt_. His teeth clattered together. “Wh-why?”

Biva gestured around the _karyai_. “Because it’s empty.”

Empty...not void of furniture or supplies, but of people. Biva was alone, utterly and completely alone. Oh, _haran_ . Corin’s guilt tripled. He’d tried (and failed, but still tried) to take advantage of someone who lived isolated and alone. True, it was a common lifestyle for bounty hunters, but even the nomadic Mandalorian culture built itself up on the importance of family. “I’m s…I’m sorry…” He hugged himself tight. “ _N-ni ceta_.”

She pressed her lips together. “Take off everything.” She tossed a blanket at him. “The ice is melting, and cold liquid leeches right into your skin.”

Corin unstrapped his armor and peeled off the bodysuit with shaking hands. He removed the memory stick from his belt and held it out.

“I don’t know if you recall, but I’m pretty _kriffing_ blind. What are you…” Biva trailed off. “Oh. The...those are the…?” She took it from his hand. “You came here based off one sentence I said...just to give this back?

Corin huddled in the blanket. That wasn’t entirely true, but… “ _E-elek_.”

With a sigh, Biva sat down beside him. “You’re still an ass. A lucky one, at that--I didn’t plan on coming back here, but something told me I should. Call it providence, the Force, intuition...I dunno. Anyway. Here you are. Naked on my couch.”

He couldn’t help a laugh, though it sounded pained. “‘ _lek_.”

A slight smile touched Biva’s face. “Alright, you Republic traitor, you.” She stood. “I’m getting you some clothes, some food...and I guess we’ll see what happens from there. I’m thinking I’ll keep you around, which is more than a _chakaar_ like you deserves.” She shook her head.

Corin watched her ascend the staircase and disappear. He pressed the blanket against his face, finally starting to feel warm.


End file.
